


Stars Around My Scars

by katquarius



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Established Relationship, Eve channels Cristina Yang, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I can dream, One Shot, Post-Season/Series 03, Soft Eve Polastri, Soft Villanelle | Oksana Astankova, They fight and make up like the healthy couple I want them to be in Season 4, Villanelle is so obnoxious I love her, Villaneve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:13:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25498177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katquarius/pseuds/katquarius
Summary: “'Baby?'Villanelle opened her eyes, but they were distant and hazy. 'Hi,' she greeted weakly. She took a step into the house but immediately stumbled and fell to her knees on the hardwood floor."ORThe quintessential "Eve helps a hurt Villanelle" fic because apparently I wanted to see Villanelle get stabbed a third time?
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 27
Kudos: 307





	Stars Around My Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "cardigan" by Taylor Swift (thank you Taylor Swift for writing a Villaneve album I really appreciate it everyone go listen to "my tears ricochet" and think about Villaneve trying to kill each other thanks bye)

Eve was reading on the couch when she heard a single metallic clang come from the porch. She put her book down and turned toward the noise, listening for any hints as to who could be on the doorstep. Her new ‘on the run’ lifestyle left her wary of any visitors who didn’t immediately use a key to let themselves in, as in anyone besides Villanelle.

Only silence followed. Growing unsettled, Eve reached for the gun Villanelle kept hidden beneath the arm chair’s cushion, double checking that it was loaded. Living with an ex-assassin had its perks, even though Eve still wasn’t totally comfortable wielding a gun. She knew she’d figure it out if it came down to self defense.

Cocked and locked, Eve approached the door slowly. When she was about ten feet away there was a loud slam on the door--a single pound with a fist instead of a normal knock. Eve jumped slightly, but continued forward to the peephole.

She peeked through and found herself looking at Villanelle’s shoulder and the leftmost part of her face, the rest of her out of view.

She unlocked and yanked the door open instantly, confused and worried about why Villanelle hadn’t just come inside.

Villanelle was leaning against the doorframe breathing heavily. Her skin was paler than usual, besides a purple bruise on her temple and a bloody cut on her lip. She was covered in a sheen of sweat and her eyes were closed. She didn’t even notice that the door had been opened until Eve got her attention.

“Baby?”

Villanelle opened her eyes, but they were distant and hazy. “Hi,” she greeted weakly. She took a step into the house but immediately stumbled and fell to her knees on the hardwood floor.

Eve dropped to her own knees in front of her, reaching out to stable her with hands on her upper arms. Just past Villanelle, she could see the glint of a key on the doormat, where she must have fumbled with and dropped it. “What happened?” she asked, trying to keep the impending panic out of her voice. 

“‘M fine,” Villanelle deflected, very obviously not fine. Eve watched as her eyelids started to get heavy, her eyes closing slowly as her head tilted forward.

“Oksana! You need to stay awake,” Eve implored, shaking her upper arms and hoping she wasn’t hurting her.

Villanelle’s eyes popped open again, and Eve sighed a small breath of relief. She just needed to keep talking to Villanelle, reminding her to keep her eyes open, and they’d get through this. Eve could get her through this.

“I’m gonna take this off you, okay?” Eve notified, wrapping one arm around Villanelle’s back so she could unzip her bomber jacket with her other hand. And oh, fuck, that was a lot of blood on her white t-shirt. “Jesus, baby, did you get stabbed?!” she asked in disbelief, sliding the jacket off Villanelle’s shoulders gently, unsure where on her torso the injury was. Villanelle winced in pain as Eve pulled the sleeve over her right wrist. “Sorry! I’m sorry.” Shit, maybe a broken hand, too? She’d seen Villanelle a couple hours ago and she was fine, what the fuck happened?

“We need to get you into the bathroom.” Eve stood into a crouch and positioned the crooks of her elbows under Villanelle’s armpits. “Ready?” she asked, more to warn Villanelle than anything. She heaved Villanelle’s mostly dead weight to her feet and wrapped Villanelle’s good arm around her shoulder and one of her own around Villanelle’s waist. She kicked the door shut behind them then started toward the bathroom, supporting most of Villanelle’s weight as she shuffled along.

She did her best to lower Villanelle to the bathroom floor. It was difficult with someone bigger than her, but she didn’t want to sit her down on the toilet seat and risk her falling and hitting her head or something. When Villanelle was propped up against the tub, Eve dug the first aid kit out of the cabinet and set it beside them. 

She went to pull Villanelle’s shirt over her head so she could get to the wound, then remembered her hand. It’d probably be best not to jostle it, so she decided she’d better cut the shirt off instead. She reached for the medical scissors and positioned them against the hem at the bottom of the bloodied tee.

As if sensing the impending act of violence against her beloved clothing, Villanelle furrowed her brow at Eve petulantly.

“Are you serious?” Eve asked, incredulous. “You’ve barely kept your eyes open this whole time but now you find the energy to glare at me?” Eve shook her head at the ridiculity of the situation--of her life, honestly. “It’s literally a white t-shirt.”

“It’s Gucci,” Villanelle muttered.

“Fuck you,” Eve laughed, despite the fact that her girlfriend was currently bleeding out. “I’m cutting your shirt now.”

Villanelle seemed to acquiesce, quieting as her eyes went a bit hazy again, and Eve immediately wished that she’d go back to being obnoxious. At least then Eve could be sure that she wasn’t about to pass out and die.

Eve cut up along the front of her shirt, noticing bruises on Villanelle’s neck when she got to the collar. She tried her best to push down the fury and fear that rose from deep within her. She had bigger fish to fry, what with the possible stab wound that she still hadn’t located. It was just that facial bruises and cuts and even a wayward stab wound could come from regular fights, from brawls with muggers in the streets, from merely being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But someone had clearly tried to kill Villanelle, likely a member of the Twelve, and from the state of her, they’d come decently close. Eve was enraged that someone had tried to take Villanelle from her, and upset that she wasn’t there to axe them in the back, and scared that it could happen again.

She peeled the edges of the shirt away from Villanelle’s sweaty, bloody skin and found the wound by the way her shirt clung to it. It was about an inch and a half long, located in the muscle above her right collarbone (the trapezius, Eve pulled out of her ass from her high school anatomy course), just beside her bra strap. Eve wasn’t a doctor, but she figured that was good; it probably missed most of the vasculature, being out of the path from the heart to both the arms and the neck. (She didn’t appreciate how close the knife was to hitting her square in the throat, though, which was probably where it was intended to land.)

It was definitely bleeding, obviously, but not gushing blood like Eve was worried about. It probably wasn’t _too_ deep and shouldn’t need stitches. Eve figured it’d probably leave a gnarly scar, though, a little less clinical looking than the one on Villanelle’s stomach.

Eve tried to run through the steps of her basic first aid knowledge. She would need to mostly stop the bleeding before applying a bandage, and she should disinfect her hands and the wound before doing anything.

“Sit tight while I wash my hands, okay?” She looked up at Villanelle’s face to find that her eyes had slipped shut again. “Hey!” she yelled, and Villanelle’s eyes snapped open. Eve raised a hand to cup her cheek, imploring Villanelle to look at her. “I need you to stay awake, okay? Or else I can’t tell if things are getting worse.”

Villanelle blinked back at her a couple times.

“Okay?” Eve asked again, and Villanelle nodded.

Satisfied, Eve stood to quickly wash her hands, then grabbed a clean washcloth. She got it wet and rubbed some soap into it then joined Villanelle on the floor. Her eyes were still open, obediently staring straight ahead.

“This might hurt,” she warned, and started to clean the wound. Villanelle didn’t react, neither to the light pressure nor the stinging from the soap. Eve hoped that it was just because she was tough and not because she was in shock or had lost feeling in her shoulder, or something.

When she was done, Eve took a moment to wipe the blood from Villanelle’s lip, too, then discarded the washcloth and pressed the palm of her hand into the stab wound to stop the bleeding. Villanelle inhaled sharply, and although Eve hated to be the one hurting her, she was glad that that seemed to rule out shock and numbness. “Sorry,” she whispered.

“‘S okay,” Villanelle slurred, words coming out slowly. “This is kinda sexy.”

“ _What?_ ” Eve asked, in disbelief. Trust Villanelle to turn a medical emergency into something sexual. “I’m literally keeping your blood inside your body with my bare hands. You’re clammy and beat up and we’re in the fucking bathroom.”

Villanelle took a few laborious breaths in preparation for her reply. “Exactly,” she started. “You have all the power and I’m at your mercy--incapacitated and half naked. Like... roleplay. Also, I have a thing about bathrooms.”

Eve stared at her blankly. There was a lot to unpack there. She decided to ignore that last bit for now. “First of all, it’s not ‘roleplay’ when you’re literally _actually_ bleeding all over our house.”

Villanelle shrugged with her good shoulder. 

“And sex isn’t sexy when one person is incapacitated, you know this. You agree.”

“Yes, but I trust you,” Villanelle replied immediately, and Eve’s heart skipped a beat. She knew Villanelle’s trust was hard earned and easily lost, so she felt privileged to have it. “And I’m the one who is weak, so I’m allowed to say it’s sexy.”

Eve supposed that was fair. Obviously taking advantage of someone was wrong, but what about wanting someone to take advantage of you? The only thing was- 

“I thought you didn’t like it very much when we… do that. I mean, not the incapacitated roleplay whatever the fuck you’re talking about, but when… I’m in charge,” Eve said haltingly. 

And she had a point. It happened like that sometimes, and Villanelle always acted... irritable afterward, even though she seemed to enjoy it in the moment.

“Eve,” Villanelle said mockingly as she closed her eyes. (Eve let it slide since Villanelle was talking, which was an appropriate indicator of consciousness.) “Do you really think we’d keep doing it if I didn’t like it?”

Villanelle’s point was even better. And kind of obvious, when Eve thought about it. It wasn’t like Eve would just up and decide to shove Villanelle into the mattress. It was Villanelle who encouraged Eve to take control, who would orient herself in certain… compromising positions in hopes that Eve would take the hint without her having to ask outright.

So why, then, was she always in a bad mood after the fact? It was her own doing.

Eve pondered her girlfriend’s behavior as she lifted her hand off her shoulder, checking the wound. It was still bleeding, but much less than before, which was probably why Villanelle was more responsive and talkative than she was earlier when she was losing blood fast. A couple more minutes of pressure should do it. Eve put her palm on the wound again.

Eve wondered if maybe Villanelle was always sulky after being submissive in bed _because_ it was her own doing. Even if Eve took the initiative to be more in control unprompted, which she rarely did, Villanelle was still stronger and always _could_ take it back if she wanted to. But evidently she didn’t always want to, and both she and Eve knew it. Did that make her feel weak, or something? Ashamed?

It saddened Eve that something that was supposed to be fun and relaxing and intimate sometimes left Villanelle upset. She should have paid more attention, tried to solve the problem sooner by talking to and reassuring Villanelle instead of instantly chalking it up to ‘well she must not have liked that.’

Eve wasn’t sure if she should bring it up now, since they’d already started the conversation, or wait until it came up again. She should definitely at least wait until Villanelle was bandaged up. Even after that, though, she wasn’t sure how to mention it in a way that wouldn’t make Villanelle feel defensive or upset. Talking about sex cavlierly already wasn’t one of Eve’s strong suits (and talking about it emotionally was even harder). After fifteen years of marriage she eventually got to the frank stage with Niko, but she felt like she was back to square one with Villanelle. (Villanelle had no such qualms, which Eve didn’t really find fair.)

When she lifted her palm from Villanelle’s skin again, the blood had stopped flowing, and Eve let herself take her first full, deep breath since she first heard someone on the doorstep. “It stopped bleeding, baby,” she informed with a smile, grabbing the washcloth to wipe some of the surrounding blood away. “You’re gonna be fine.”

Villanelle gave a small smile back.

Eve picked the scissors up again to cut the shirt completely off her body. Then she slid her bra strap over so it hung around her bicep, allowing her to apply the bandage.

“Did you change your mind about this being sexy?” Villanelle asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, you asshole,” Eve scolded, secretly glad that Villanelle was getting back to her annoying self. “I just need to wrap the gauze and it’s in a very inconvenient place,” she explained as she grabbed some gauze that wouldn’t stick to the wound and placed it over the injury, holding it in place with one hand as she reached for a bandage roll with the other.

“Oh, sorry about that. Where would be more convenient? I’ll try harder next time.”

“You are _so_ funny today,” Eve shot back as she fiddled with the bandage roll, trying to figure out the best way to secure the gauze.

“Thank you. It’s all the trauma.”

Despite herself, Eve laughed, before sobering up again. “Actually though, please don’t get stabbed again. It stresses me out.”

“I mean, you stabbed me first.”

“I’m serious, Oksana,” Eve stated firmly, looking up from Villanelle’s shoulder to meet her eyes.

Villanelle had gotten a lot better at this the more time they spent together--knowing when she could tease and poke fun versus when Eve was trying to have an important conversation with her and didn’t want to be blown off.

“Okay,” she ceded.

Eve exhaled another sigh. “Thank you.”

They were quiet as Eve wrapped the wound, eventually determining that the best way was to go from her hurt shoulder, across the top of her chest, under her opposite arm, and up around her back a few times. She used a few strips of medical tape to adhere the bandage to her skin, and had Villanelle move her arms around a bit to make sure the bandage wasn’t going anywhere. 

“How do you feel?” Eve asked Villanelle when she pulled away, satisfied with her handiwork.

“I don’t feel like I’m going to pass out anymore.”

“Ah, well that’s good.” Villanelle did seem to be in better shape. Some color was returning to her cheeks. “But does it hurt?”

Villanelle shrugged.

“Darling, you do know you’re allowed to be in pain, right?”

“Why do you want me to be?” Villanelle snapped.

“What? I don’t, I just want you to feel like you can talk to me. I don’t want you to hide stuff from me. I’m not going to think less of you.”

(Eve did love a good double entendre.)

Villanelle frowned at her for a moment longer before relenting. “Fine. Then it really fucking hurts. It feels like my skin is on fire. My hand is killing me, too, whenever I move it the wrong way.”

Oh, fuck, Eve forgot about her hand. “Shit,” she said, searching for the first aid kit’s handbook. “Hold on, let me see if there’s anything in here about broken hands or hand bone fractures or something.”

Eve skimmed for a minute, but the first aid kit was mostly geared toward injuries that involved blood. She pulled out her phone, wondering if she could Google something that would help her diagnose Villanelle’s injury, then help her treat it. She really hoped they wouldn’t need to get an x-ray or a cast or something. It was better to avoid locations that require identification when you were supposed to be on the run.

Eve found a promising site and started asking Villanelle questions to help narrow it down. “How did you hurt it?”

“Bastard grabbed and twisted it when I threw a punch.”

Eve tried not to cringe. Playing doctor was especially difficult when your patient was the person you loved, recounting all the ways their body had been damaged.

She looked down at her phone. “It’s probably your wrist, then. Did you hear any cracks or snaps?” (Another inward cringe.)

“No, but I kind of cried out, so maybe I didn’t notice.”

Eve nodded. “Can I see?”

Villanelle lifted her hand for Eve. It was swollen, and there was some bruising around the wrist and thumb.

“Can you make a fist?”

Villanelle did it slowly, fingers shaking a bit, and eventually made a weak fist.

“Good. Can you grip my hand?” Eve held her right hand out for Villanelle to take.

Villanelle closed her hand around it, but couldn’t really squeeze with much force. She huffed in frustration.

“It’s okay,” Eve said, trying to sound soothing. “Can you physically not do it or does it hurt too much?”

“Hurts,” Villanelle grunted, and Eve pulled her hand away so Villanelle wouldn’t keep stubbornly trying to squeeze through the pain.

“Okay. That’s a good thing. I think it means you don’t have nerve damage, or something.”

“Can you really get nerve damage from someone twisting your wrist too hard?” Villanelle asked, skeptical.

“I don’t know! I’m just trying to cover all our bases here.” She scrolled through a couple more sports health articles. “Okay, so it looks like we won’t be able to actually diagnose anything without a doctor and an x-ray. There’s a ton of bones in the hand and I don’t know how to tell if they’re broken, fractured, sprained, or just bruised.”

“We can’t go to the hospital.”

“I know, babe. Let’s just start by icing and elevating it, okay? And I can run to the store and grab you a brace, and maybe a sling.” Eve didn’t tell her that if it didn’t start getting better in a few days then they might have no other choice besides finding a doctor. She figured it’d be better to cross that bridge only if they got to it.

“Okay.”

“Alright. Do you want any pain meds?”

“I don’t need pain meds.”

Jesus, it was like pulling teeth with this woman. “I know you don’t _need_ them. I asked if you _want_ them.”

Villanelle glared at her for a second, nostrils flaring once, twice. Eve knew that face worked on most people, but she’d learned how to wait Villanelle out. She raised an eyebrow.

Villanelle maintained her dirty look for another few seconds before sighing. “Yes please.”

Eve leaned in to kiss her on the cheek as a reward--one of the few places she knew wouldn’t hurt Villanelle. “Do you want the over-the-counter stuff or the good stuff?”

“Good stuff.”

Eve stood to rifle through the cabinet for the hydrocodone that Villanelle had somehow managed to purchase over the internet without a prescription a few weeks ago. Honestly, Eve didn’t want to know. 

She handed her the bottle and a cup of water then started to clean up the floor around Villanelle as she swallowed a pill. First aid kit packed up and trash in the bin, Eve took the pill bottle and cup back from Villanelle and put them by the sink. “Do you need me to help you up?” Eve asked.

Villanelle answered by way of standing, of course, and promptly lurched into Eve, who grabbed her hips. “Just a head rush,” she grinned.

“Mhm.”

Despite Villanelle’s protests, Eve supported her as they left the bathroom and moved toward the living room. Eve didn’t care that Villanelle wasn’t still bleeding and had had some time to rest, she’d technically lost more blood by now than she had when she first fell to her knees in the foyer, so Eve wasn’t willing to let her try to walk by herself yet.

She gently deposited Villanelle on the couch, instructing her to lie down, then pulled her shoes off and covered her with a blanket. She still wasn’t wearing a shirt and Eve didn’t want her to get cold, but also didn’t want to force her hand through a sleeve until the painkillers kicked in. “Here’s a pillow for your hand so you can keep it above your heart. I’ll be right back with some ice.”

She left to grab the ice pack from the freezer and returned to carefully lay it on Villanelle’s wrist. “How’s that?”

“Good,” Villanelle answered, and didn’t even put up a fight this time. Growth, Eve thought.

Eve smiled down at her, then moved to look for the remote, expecting Villanelle to want to watch a movie.

“Wait,” Villanelle spoke up, “I’m tired. Am I allowed to sleep now?” she asked playfully.

“Yes,” Eve chuckled, setting down the remote. “I’m no longer worried about you dying on our floor, so you can sleep.”

Villanelle nodded.

Eve moved to grab the book she was reading earlier and joined Villanelle on the couch. She only got a page in before she was interrupted.

“Eve?”

At least it was one of her favorite interruptions.

“Hm?”

“Do you want to take a nap with me?”

Eve looked over at Villanelle, the note of vulnerability in her voice reminding Eve of when Villanelle asked her if she’d stay for a bit back in her Paris apartment. Villanelle had schooled her face, though, betraying her tone of voice as she looked for all the world like the perfect image of coolness.

“Of course,” Eve replied honestly, because that seemed to be her M.O. regarding Villanelle recently. Of course she turned around to look at Villanelle on the bridge. Of course she ran away with her. Of course she told her she loved her.

She set her book back down (she honestly wasn’t sure why she bothered with literature anymore, none of the stories were as interesting as her actual life) and maneuvered over to Villanelle. The couch was just wide enough for her to lie on her side next to Villanelle on her back, so she moved underneath the blanket and slid underneath Villanelle’s arm to rest her head on her good shoulder. She slipped a thigh over Villanelle’s legs and curled an arm around her bare waist. When she finished shifting around to get comfortable, she took a deep inhale, ignoring the lingering smell of blood and sweat and zeroing in on the familiar scent of Villanelle. She exhaled in a contented sigh, letting the stress of the past twenty minutes leave her body.

“You good?” Villanelle asked teasingly.

“Yes, you dick. I was just worried about you earlier.”

“I’m fine,” Villanelle responded. Eve could tell by the slight lilt in her tone that she was trying to be comforting, not dismissive.

“I know. But you could easily not have been.” It was an intensely uncomfortable thought. Eve clutched at Villanelle’s waist protectively, thinking again about the nearness of the wound to her neck, and the bruises from strangulation. 

“I won’t let anyone take me from you.”

Eve’s heart skipped again, and she leant up to kiss Villanelle’s jaw in appreciation. Villanelle was quite the romantic, underneath it all, even though Eve didn’t think she tried to be. She was just being honest.

Unfortunately, Eve knew that some things were out of Villanelle’s control. But she did her best to let Villanelle’s words reassure her. After all, Villanelle was nothing if not dedicated when she was passionate about something. And Lord knew she was passionate about Eve. If that extrapolated to her being passionate about staying alive, then Eve was happy.

Villanelle spoke up again. “Thank you, by the way.”

“What for?”

Villanelle gave her a funny look, like it was obvious. “For taking care of me?”

Oh. It _was_ actually obvious, so obvious that Eve didn’t even register it as something she should to be thanked for. Any decent person would help someone who was injured on their doorstep, even if it was just to call 911. And any decent girlfriend would pull out the first aid kit. It was the least Eve could do.

“You’re welcome, but you don’t have to thank me for that, darling. You were in bad shape and I love you, of course I helped you.”

Villanelle looked up at the ceiling, mulling over Eve’s words. “Huh.”

Eve tried not to think about how many times Villanelle had had to patch herself up after jobs gone wrong. Hopefully it wasn’t too often, given that Villanelle was highly skilled, but surely there was a cut or a black eye here and there. And, of course, that time when she somehow got herself to the hospital after Eve stabbed her. Eve still didn’t know that whole story, they tended not to talk about it much.

In any case, it was clear that Villanelle wasn’t used to people taking care of her, or even caring whether she lived or died. Eve was glad that she was appreciative of Eve’s efforts now instead of trying to brush her off like she did earlier.

Villanelle seemed to be in a good mood, a little more affectionate than usual (perhaps the painkillers were making her drowsy and therefore clingy; that’s usually how it went with Villanelle), and Eve wondered if now would be a good time to bring up her concerns about how certain aspects of sex made Villanelle feel.

“Oksana?” she asked, before realizing that she wasn’t exactly sure how to even start the conversation.

“Yes?”

It was probably best to jump right in. It’s not like Villanelle ever beat the bush around these things, why should Eve? “Earlier you were saying that you like when I’m more in charge in bed, right?”

“Mmm yes. It’s sexy. I always knew you had it in you.”

“Great, well, that’s good to know,” Eve replied, unsure how to accept that particular compliment. “But I noticed that afterward you seem a little… off. You pull away from me, you seem upset,” she trailed off, not actually posing a question to Villanelle but still giving her the chance to explain.

“No I don’t,” Villanelle denied petulantly, moving her hand off of where it was resting on Eve’s back.

“Like that!” Eve pointed out, then realized she shouldn’t approach this like she was trying to beat Villanelle in an argument. “Sorry,” she amended. She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. “I just don’t want to do things with you that make you feel bad later on. So I was thinking that if we talk about it, then we can sort it out, and it’ll be more fun for both of us.”

“You don’t think it’s fun?”

“I don’t think it’s fun to see you down, that’s all.” And it was the truth; Eve enjoyed everything they did in bed. 

At Villanelle’s silence, Eve started tracing her fingers along her stomach. “Talk to me, let me in,” she encouraged.

Villanelle shifted uncomfortably beneath Eve, so Eve stilled her hand. “It’s stupid. It doesn’t matter.”

“I disagree, and it matters to me.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I think it might help if you-”

“Just leave me alone!” Villanelle demanded in a raised voice. “I said I don’t want to talk about it!”

“Fine,” Eve bit back, sitting up abruptly but making sure not to jostle Villanelle. “If you’re going to be like that then I’ll keep reading my book. Enjoy your nap.”

“What? Just because I won’t talk about my _feelings?_ ” Villanelle asked mockingly.

Eve sighed in frustration, shifting on the edge of the couch to look down at Villanelle. “No, Oksana, it’s because you’re being a dickhead when I’m just trying to help you.”

“No, you’re making me do something I don’t want to do.”

“Seriously?” Eve laughed mirthlessly. “I’m not _making_ you do anything. I’m trying to give you the opportunity to get something off your chest. It’s not my fault you’re too scared to take it,” she accused.

“I’m not scared!”

“You are!” Eve asserted. “You’re scared of your own emotions because you never learned how to process and express them. You’re scared because you’re not used to being vulnerable around people. You’re scared of the fact that you actually _like_ feeling vulnerable around me, which makes you feel weak and ashamed and exposed. Does that cover it?”

The look on Villanelle’s face, mouth agape, told her that it did. It didn’t feel as good as Eve had imagined, to be able to read Villanelle like that. Actually, she felt like shit.

Villanelle shut her mouth and clenched her jaw. She swallowed once, and looked away from Eve, frowning. “Why did you want me to say it if you already knew? That’s… mean, I think. It’s… hard for me to talk about.”

Guilt flooded Eve. “Fuck, baby, I’m sorry. I know it’s hard. It’s hard for everyone to talk about stuff like that, not just you.” She took a breath. “I guess I wanted you to say it because I wanted it to be on your own terms, and I wanted you to feel like you could trust me. I took the choice away from you when I got pushy and mad. I’m sorry.”

Villanelle thought that over for a minute, eyes searching Eve’s face as if she was trying to detect a lie in her words. When she finished her inspection, evidently not finding anything, she shrugged. “It’s fine. I _was_ being kind of a dick.”

Eve smiled, taking that as the apology it was likely intended to be.

Villanelle tilted her head slightly as she looked up at Eve. “Now what?”

It was a fair question. Villanelle’s issues were out there, now, but hadn’t really been properly addressed in the midst of their mini fight.

“Now, I reassure you about all your deep, dark secrets,” Eve answered, trying for levity.

Villanelle frowned again.

“No, we’re past that, thank you,” Eve chided, moving her thumb to soothe the furrow in Villanelle’s brow. She settled her hand on Villanelle’s cheek, hazel eyes peering up at her, and mentally composed a speech.

“What you like in the bedroom doesn’t have to have any bearing on how you act outside of it. But if it does, that’s fine, too. There’s nothing wrong or shameful about wanting to take the backseat sometimes. Especially for someone like you, who’s used to _always_ being in control of every facet of your life.”

“Exactly,” Villanelle nodded. “That’s how I’ve always been. People expect me to be one way, I don’t know how to be seen as anything different.”

Eve silently praised the Lord that Villanelle was finally engaging in an actual conversation about this, so they could hopefully get somewhere. “Who are these ‘people’ you’re talking about, babe? I’m the only one who needs to know.”

“So, you don’t think anything different about me?”

“Of course not,” Eve replied honestly. It hadn’t occurred to her to judge Villanelle for her nighttime requests, she cherished any opportunity to learn more about her and see more of the real Oksana. “I love you more when you’re being honest with yourself, and with me.”

“Oh.”

Eve didn’t expect that to be a surprising revelation. She’d accepted Villanelle when she was an assassin and when everyone considered her to be a psychopath (Eve wasn’t totally convinced that she was at this point), of course she accepted her being a bit more submissive than originally anticipated. That was small potatoes compared to their checkered past.

This whole time Eve had been thinking that Villanelle felt like she was betraying herself, her own identity, not that she was worried about what Eve thought of her. Eve never intended to make her feel that way at all, and the fact that she did hit her with another wave of guilt.

“Were you really worried that I’d judge you?” she asked, just to clarify, hoping the answer was no.

“Well, yes? You fell for a remorseless, arrogant assassin. Not someone all… soft and docile.”

Eve couldn’t help but laugh a little at that second description of Villanelle. Yes, she had changed since they first met, or at least shared more parts of herself with Eve, but Eve didn’t consider her to be soft _or_ docile, at least most of the time. She was still as wild at heart as she was the day they met, and could still be quite prickly, especially when she got upset.

“Oksana, I want you to understand something. I didn’t fall for you _because_ you’re remorseless and arrogant and a killer, though apparently those things aren’t deal breakers for me,” she joked, and Villanelle smiled. “I fell for you mainly because you’re the most fascinating, exciting person I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. And you’re also funny, and intelligent, and so beautiful, and sweet in your own way, and I can’t imagine life without you anymore. Well, I can, but I know it’d be the same boring life I had before you walked into it. So do me a favor and believe me when I say I love you when you’re powerful, _and_ I love you when you’re more, let’s say, passive. Okay?”

“Okay,” Villanelle replied, preening from the compliments. She definitely had a one track mind. Eve hoped the rest of it sunk in, too.

“Good. Now, how are you feeling? Painkillers kicked in yet?”

Villanelle furrowed her brow in confusion for a second, before looking down and seeing her bandaged shoulder and propped up hand. “Oh, right. Yes, can’t feel a thing.”

Eve laughed, shaking her head. Only Villanelle would forget about an actual stab wound. It was just a day in the life for her. “Okay, you clown, take your nap.”

Villanelle raised an eyebrow and extended her good arm out to the side, an invitation for Eve to join her.

Eve sighed as she moved to lay beside Villanelle again, assuming the same position as before. “I really shouldn’t encourage your behavior like this.”

“No, probably not. But I am irresistible.”

“Yes, yes, you’re very sexy. The busted lip is really doing it for me.”

“Shut up,” Villanelle laughed.

They were quiet for a few minutes, and Eve wondered if the drugs had finally coaxed Villanelle to sleep.

“Eve?”

Apparently not, then.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry for being an arsehole earlier,” Villanelle said quietly.

Eve was impressed, she didn’t often get genuine apologies from Villanelle. “I appreciate that, darling. It’s alright, I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable and then letting my anger get the best of me.”

Eve felt Villanelle nod in acceptance against the top of her head. 

“I love you too, by the way,” Villanelle said into her hair.

“I know,” Eve answered, and lifted her head to press a kiss to the corner of Villanelle’s mouth.

Villanelle turned her head to capture Eve’s lips in a proper kiss, the first one since Villanelle had come home.

“Mmm, metallic,” Eve teased when they pulled apart a few long moments later.

Villanelle laughed again and pressed their foreheads together, eyes slipping shut but her smile remaining on her face.

Eve thought, not for the first time, about how there’s no place she’d rather be.

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow this went from a hurt Villanelle fic to a Villanelle is a repressed bottom fic... don't ask I don't have an answer for you.
> 
> Let me know how you guys liked this one, I had a lot of fun with their dialogue!


End file.
